


without problems or pride

by soliloqui



Category: Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Breathplay, Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, No Smut, sephgen week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 12:26:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15388743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soliloqui/pseuds/soliloqui
Summary: When Sephiroth breaks, it is a bit like taking flight.





	without problems or pride

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really into ff7 anymore, and I have no clue what's gonna happen with Sideways, but it's SephGen week and damnit if that's not one of the few things I still enjoy about that fandom. This fic is old, I came up with the scenario together with [Kesskay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kess/works) over on the Loveless discord last year and my writing makes me hella cringe, but I wanted to contribute at least something for the event.  
> Opening poem is by Pablo Neruda/Mark Eisner ("One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII"), credit for that and a lot of other ideas to Kess.
> 
> Disclaimer: don't try this at home kids. You're not a genetically enhanced superhuman.

  **without problems or pride**

>  
> 
> _I love you directly without problems or pride:_
> 
> _I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,_
> 
> _except in this form in which I am not nor are you,_
> 
> _so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,_
> 
> _so close that your eyes close with my dreams._

 

It takes a while for Sephiroth to break.

It always does, in the beginning. Straight from the moment when the three’s gazes cross over the couch table and imperceptible nods signal the beginning of the carefully arranged play. Schedules rearranged, loose ends tied up, all possible distractions anticipated and averted, they head to the bedroom; Genesis in front, leading the way for Sephiroth, and little Cloud trailing behind almost like an afterthought.

It is a meticulous process, getting Sephiroth to relinquish his tight control. The ritual starts right behind the closed door, with nimble hands on his skin skillfully relieving him of his coat and weapons. The heavy pauldrons hit the floor with a dull _thunk_ , but it isn’t until those fingers touch his skin under the leather of his jacket that Sephiroth bristles, makes to turn away. Cloud’s steady presence at his back doesn’t let him get far while Genesis shushes him.

The redhead reaches up a hand to firmly turn Sephiroth’ chin back forward, catching skittish eyes with a mildly reproachful gaze. He clucks his tongue, not letting go until the man has settled. The hand trails down, touching the bobbing Adam’s apple once and then continuing its journey, resting on a wildly beating heart before going for the black lapels once again. Meanwhile, his eyes continue to hold the other captive, blue staring into green as though daring him to pull away again.

“ _Good_ ,” Genesis croons in reward when the coat falls away to reveal more of the pale skin. Sephiroth swallows.

Cloud releases the mechanism on Sephiroth’ Soldier belt, then rubs the exposed abdominal muscles with his arms slung around the man’s waist from behind. He can feel the tension wound through Sephiroth’ shoulders, the rigidity of his spine as he presses against it, like a spring coiled tight, ready to snap.

_Patience,_ he thinks.

The blonde steps away to head over to the bed. Genesis takes over and circles Sephiroth in a tight prowl. His hand keeps up a steady pressure while testing the power in that strong back, the tense pecs, straining against him, still resisting every push and shove.

“Let go,” Genesis murmurs. He suddenly grips the man’s silver hair at the nape of his neck and draws his head back. Sephiroth gasps.

Genesis can see those slitted eyes widen, feel the pulse quicken beneath his hand and hear breathing pick up. He leans closer, brushes hair aside to whisper directly into Sephiroth’ ear. He tightens his grip.

“ _Let go._ ”

A few quick maneuvers have Genesis pushing the General backwards towards the bed, where Cloud receives him. Once again, control is taken, and he has to trust blindly as he is steered by his lovers, as Cloud grabs his shoulders and drags him into the middle of the bed roughly, pushes him into the midnight blue sheets lying on his back. A second later the weight of Genesis – now bar his trademark Soldier insignias – settles over his torso, knees straddling him on either side. Things will only grow more surreal from here on.

Sephiroth bucks against him heavily and it takes all of Genesis’ ample strength to keep a hold of him, but he stays firm. A growl slips out from between Sephiroth’ parted mouth as he fixes his captor with a heated glare. Genesis catches the arms that had started clawing at his thighs and pins them to the bed, leaning all of his weight forward to hold the other down. His face comes close to Sephiroth’ as he looms over him and he brushes his nose carefully against the man’s cheek, an odd counterpoint to the violent grip he has on him.

It is only when small, pale hands reach from above that the beast calms, like a switch suddenly being flipped. Cloud’s fingers close around Sephiroth’ wrists to pull them up above his head, and just like that, he grows still. So very still.

“Good,” Genesis whispers again.

Another reward, this time in the form of lips brushing against Sephiroth’ temple, as though in blessing.

A breeze – caused by an air condition, due to the pollution of Midgar, rather than the open window Genesis would have preferred – ruffles the light curtains framing the bed, closing them off from the rest of the world. Genesis uses the moment to appreciate the sight before him, of the usually unflappable Silver General spread out on the luxurious sheets below him, hair a shining cascade over the duvet and soft green light painting an ethereal glow over his skin. His chest rises and falls quickly in panicked, barely controlled huffs of breath.

Genesis lays the tips of his fingers over those thin lips. “Hush now…”

He catches Cloud’s gaze above Sephiroth’ head and witnesses the way the cadet cradles the pale wrists almost reverently. It’s an intimate atmosphere between the three in which Genesis finally closes his hands around Sephiroth’ throat.

The first reaction is instantaneous: A small gasp, a tensing of muscles beneath Genesis. The bucking starts again, though it is obvious Sephiroth is very, very careful not to use his arms, because Cloud is holding onto them and Sephiroth might hurt him if he moved too forcefully.

“Hush, my darling.”

It takes a while for the flow of oxygen towards Sephiroth’ brain to slow to a trickle. At first, it is just the sheer panic setting in. The restriction. The reflex kicking in to move, to free himself. An urge for control. Sephiroth closes his eyes and concentrates, forces himself to resist.

He needs this.

He hates it, but _by_ _God_ he needs this.

“Let go,” he hears the melodic voice murmur above him.

Sephiroth tries. A trickle of air still flows through his windpipe, even if the lack of oxygen is slowly starting to make him dizzy. But then Genesis’ grip tightens and Sephiroth can’t help stretching his neck in a desperate attempt to get away from the pressure. His arms remain immobile, but the rest of his body convulses violently under the immovable weight of his partner.

Minutes pass, minutes of futile struggle resulting in nothing but Sephiroth exhausting himself. He gasps, chokes, emits desperate noises, but Genesis remains impassive bar for the reassurances leaving his lips.

“Shh… give yourself to us, Sephiroth. We’ve got you. You can let go now, honey. We’ve got you. Just let go.”

The world starts growing darker and darker around Sephiroth. He feels captured, cornered, paralyzed. There’s nothing but the pressure against his throat and chest, the sound of his fluttering heartbeat and raspy breathing in the dim cocoon of their bedroom, and the cold rush of adrenaline through his veins, the rush of dying and being helpless against it. He is hanging from a precipice, yet still desperately clinging on with the last shred of his strength. His eyes water up with something he isn’t yet ready to admit is not entirely a physical response.

Genesis’ hands press impossibly tighter, until it starts to hurt, until the last flow of air to Sephiroth’ lungs is snuffed out. “ _Nnng…_ ” His lungs desperately scream for oxygen, heart beating away rapidly in his chest. He can’t, he struggles – he has to –

And then there’s Cloud, shushing him, running gentle fingers through his hair and tracing patterns across his forehead; the light pressure on his wrists more a reminder to keep still than a physical restriction. He’s with Cloud now, he needs to be good and follow orders, it’s okay.

“So good… you’re so good for me, Sephiroth. You’re doing so well. Hush now…”

The tears finally spill over, and a sob escapes his blueish lips.

When Sephiroth breaks, it is a bit like taking flight.

Light-headed, and floating. Everything fades away as he stares up past Genesis’ pink, flushed face, everything but the glow-in-the-dark stars arranged on the canopy, curling like a galaxy; Genesis’ glowing eyes and his strong hands around Sephiroth’ neck, Cloud’s comforting presence.

He is too out of it to notice Genesis letting up on the pressure, or himself gasping, wheezing, crying. Cloud wiping away his tears and offering his fingers to Genesis to lick off the salty taste, before meeting in a tender kiss above his head.

Sephiroth manages a rough swallow past the restriction around his throat, and Genesis leans over to kiss his cheek, breathes roughly in his ear. “ _There you are,_ ” he says, feeling the other go completely lax beneath him.

He is a thing of beauty, like this. Ethereal. The disheveled hair, the fine sheen of sweat upon his brow, tracks of tears down his temple, the quick puffs of air passing through parted lips. Dazed eyes, glimmering emerald. Genesis wants to simultaneously bury himself inside this fine creature until the lines between them blur and lock it away from the whole rest of the world forever.

Cloud is a silent shadow at his side, ever watchful as Genesis presses down again and the ritual begins anew.

They can go at it for hours, due to the enhanced state of Sephiroth’ body. The same pattern of Genesis strangling him, sometimes for minutes on end, until he’s not quite there anymore, until he can lose himself completely inside the sensation of being controlled and surrendering his life into the hands of another. Then, slowly drawing him back by lessening the pressure and trailing a finger softly over his lips, pulling him back from the brink. Repeat. Genesis keeps an ever watchful eye on Sephiroth, checking on him surreptitiously when he seems a little too far gone and giving him time to properly recover.

Part way through, they pause; get Sephiroth to drink something to soothe his throat and feed him slivers of dumbapple and raspberries. Cloud smears the small fruits across his lips, his cheek, then follows the trail backwards with his tongue to end in a loving kiss. He savours it, eyes closed, before pulling away and murmuring how sweet he tastes, a breath away from Sephiroth’ lips.

Sephiroth has never been called sweet before, never been sweet. But being sweet for Cloud feels good. He doesn't quite smile, because smiling is always an effort for him, but the way his lips part and his brow furrows like he's trying to press this memory into permanence speak of happiness.

Genesis sniffs once, purses his lips, blinks, and then his fingers start winding part of Sephiroth' hair into a braid.

Sometime after, Genesis moves Cloud against his front and guides his hands around Sephiroth’ throat. He teaches Cloud, who has never played like this himself; shows him where to squeeze and when, how much pressure is acceptable, how to cut off the blood flow rather than smashing Sephiroth’ windpipe. Whispers against the shell of his ear when to let up a little.

“Easy there, sweetheart… See, there? Watch the color of his lips. That’s right.”

Later, after they switch back, Cloud will hold Sephiroth’ hands and keep them occupied, to keep them from curling into fists and cutting nails deeply into the flesh of his palms. Because as much as this is _real_ , it’s so unreal to Sephiroth that sometimes he can hardly believe it, and the pain helps to ground him. Instead, Cloud strokes the tips of his fingers down his wrists and palms every time they twitch to harm, and the sensation of the featherlight touch sends a shiver down his spine.

Sephiroth goes adrift in the feeling of light-headedness while Cloud draws patterns on his skin, pictures of the Nibel mountains that he remembers from his childhood, tracing the paths he would take with his fingernails up Sephiroth’ stomach after Genesis has moved to the side.

The pants stay on. His exposed chest leaves ample space to explore, but this isn’t about sex; not here, not now. If there are any erections, they are left ignored. This is about being, and belonging, and sweet surrender. Everything about Sephiroth belongs to Genesis and Cloud. With them, he can allow to leave himself vulnerable, knowing his weakness will not be exploited. This is sensuality, and slow, reverent touches. The dichotomy between sweet pain and that floaty feeling of giving himself over into the care of his lovers.

When Sephiroth passes out under Genesis’ hands, he does so softly. Calmly.

Nothing like when he pushes himself too far in training, or when Hojo drugs him up and makes him fight it. This is a willing surrender, and one that he cherishes.

When he comes back, it is to soft caresses of his face, gentle fingers down his cheek and jaw, over the dark marks on his neck that will fade in minutes. Light touches and close, warm bodies that help draw him back from the recesses of his mind while the stars above slowly lose their light. Whispered reassurances how much they love him and that he’s safe.

They stay in bed for a while, until they’re sure Sephiroth is back to himself and can stand unassisted, as these scenes tend to take a lot out of him. Genesis and Cloud ground him by snuggling close, by propping him up against the pillows and smearing balm on his chapped lips, feeding him from a steaming cup of hot cocoa that warms his belly as much as the chocolate flavored kisses do.

The three strip down to their underwear and nap for a bit, Sephiroth curled up between Genesis’ Mako enhanced body heat, living fire, and Cloud’s cool, small body and colder hands. Genesis nudges his head under Sephiroth’ hand and sighs happily when he starts petting. And maybe, just maybe, he needs this as much as Sephiroth – the reassurance that he didn’t take advantage, didn’t take things too far, that his lover is alright and grateful for the experience. That Genesis is not a monster for how he shows his love.

Cloud reaches over to grasp his hand over the body of their boyfriend, and smiles.


End file.
